Luyện nghe bài hát Color My World Mine

I once met a man who himself not to dream
What he seems to have seen was a glimpse of
He's been painting pictures on since age thirteen
And claims he only in the mind of a higher being
And I his work; mostly scenic landscapes
But each one is focused on an easel where the man paints painting himself
And all in his visual field
He said was the only way he could make himself real
Ever since he could remember, he had one nightmare
But until about ten years ago, it didn't
It consisted of loud, distorted sounds echoing off the
He ran on top of it in to reach a ladder
Now sometimes, get so close but never touch his destination
Which caused him much frustration 'cause he didn't know it meant
And by the end of the dream, he saw the scene from a eye
Only to his dead body laying on the cement

It was only to witness his dead laying on the cement
At first it freaked him out, but a while he grew content
So he thought, "It's a dream," and kept living his life
Writing his on the canvas 'cause it sheds his planet light
And it goes on and on like and time, ain't nothing odd
It's not that he believe, he just didn't approve of God
His was one I couldn't comprehend
'Till I stopped being detective and to him as a friend
He

He once saw a painting that his whole life story
It was then that he knew he was the art of
He once saw a painting that told his life story
A brush stroke of the gods made him one note in symphony
He saw a painting that told his whole life story
He spoke for himself and not the of humanity
He once saw a painting that told his whole life
And I that I'm not real
God imagined me

It's I said
About ten years ago, the event that his whole reality
Took place on his monthly to the local art gallery
It was there he studied his contemporaries
And there he nearly carried his sanity to a hole and buried it forever
It was a mysterious day
The place was almost
And he got chills down his spine just present in the scene
On the wall, there was a picture looked familiar
And he got close, his heart stopped
cause he saw it was a of his dream
It was a painting of his
His body on a
By a ladder to an airplane with its propellers
Which accounted for the noise
The match up was
And that was the day he stopped believing in
He his creator
I mean, words explain
What must have went on in his brain while he stared a frame
Of a work of art he created and was at the same time
The mind can't handle much, it's just insane
It's like reading a book where each words your thoughts
And in quotations, it reads whatever you say you talk
You think it happen
But it did
I guess there's wide cracks in each life's sidewalk
He stumbled upon an when he never had a question
And decided to stop to maintain his mental health
Now he talks to people
stays in his basement
Writing infinity, by himself
himself
This is a strange
Is it all just a
In the real universe, is my consciousness
Are we really something a intelligence made up?
A of imagination colored by a cosmic paintbrush?
Maybe all of our art creates the fate of beings
Then character in ever novel thinks it's alive and were just gods
blindly
Just a
I don't know what it
But that's the story of the man who trained himself not to

He once saw a paining that his whole life story
He witnessed the paradox of the "existing"
He saw a painting that told his whole life story
He colored his world theirs, and he wasn't living
He saw a painting that told his whole life story
The hidden variable all that is is art
And when I close my eyes, I see as a story
A God imagined the God imagined me
And I am God
And so on